You Think You're Cooler Than Me
by unoriginalrhombus
Summary: "She likes t-shirts and cardigans and ladies. She was a target if there ever was one, and Quinn doesn't think she would have made it this far (or been this happy) if parts of her life had turned out any different." Nerd!Quinn and Popular!Santana.


_A/N: So, this will be three chapters long. It was originally written for Quinntana week. Nerd! Quinn and Popular! Santana. Overall, I'm not really certain that I like it or if it makes sense that it's going somewhere. Yes, Santana's interest seems random, and yes it is because she's plotting. But please read and review and let me know if I should post the other parts of this._

_Dedication: This is for thirteenlocksmith: you are incredibly sweet, so I wrote this for you in mind. It's not angsty and it's meant to end incredibly cheesy. I hope it's alright because I started it with one thing in mind and it started shifting towards something else._

_This is also for Kay: Your proposal was sweet. I'm more than flattered. Take this in return._

* * *

**You Think You're Cooler Than Me**

Quinn is extremely aware of the fact that she isn't very popular.

Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an _understatement_. If she was only taking her interests into consideration then that alone would put her very low on the McKinley High social scale. While her interests weren't the worst things in the world, they weren't really something that made a girl popular. Unfortunately for her, having her own comic book collection, staking out all of the Star Wars movies, owning Avatar (the show and the movie) the deluxe edition and the regular editions on DVD weren't really the type of things that made kids want to be friends with her.

If she was tallying up the points, she would already be pretty darn low. But then taking into account the fact that she was in the glee club, Christian, and had the tendency to wear dorky shirts instead of short skirts...well, she was practically in the negative.

For the record though, Rachel (her best friend) had demanded that Quinn join Glee Club and Quinn would do anything for that girl, even if it meant singing on the daily. She didn't think that loyalty and friendship should constitute social status rankings, but whatever, it's not like she really cared. She had bigger and badder fish to fry and she absolutely _despised_ the people on the top of the McKinley High food chain.

They were cruel, intentionally vicious, and absolutely vain, and Quinn was positively glad that she wasn't one of them. She couldn't envision herself being a one of the girls who went out of their way to make other kids feel terrible, she just couldn't.

The point is that Quinn isn't popular and she _knows _it, but what's more, she actually likes it that way. She likes going under the radar, she likes having friends who actually care about her, she likes being who she is and expressing who she is all without the pressure that she could only liken to Russell Fabray.

She enjoys having her secrecy, her friends, and her interests as her _own_ and she enjoys the fact that the past four years have gone by relatively uneventfully. She enjoys the fact that the only time she has to socialize with any of the popular kids is when they're insulting her (or when she's stuck with the worst one of all at Youth Group). Most of all, she enjoys being Quinn Fabray. Nerdiness and all.

Unfortunately for her, the student body doesn't seem interested in letting Quinn stay this unknown enigma, because one day (halfway through her senior year) everything changes.

Maybe she should start at the very beginning.

* * *

Quinn was late to Youth Group _again_ and she knew her pastor was going to kill her.

She could have lied and said it was some sort of family emergency that had held her up, but in all honesty, she had been stuck at this one point in Arkham City and she had refused to move until she had passed it. That game was genius and Quinn had been on a roll, so she had taken more time than necessary to head out to youth group.

Anyway, it's what leads her to sneaking in through the back (just like always) her feet silent and her body quiet. She's late and she instantly regrets it when she sees everyone gathered together in a circle. Everyone is paired off. Everyone but...Santana Lopez.

Quinn slumped her shoulders in defeat when her pastor pointed her over towards Santana. Damn her video game and it's tantalizing goodness!

Quinn trudged over, her body just as unwilling as her. She slid onto the floor and ignored Santana's blatant look of disgust. Her pastor said a few more words before turning them loose and Quinn rolled her eyes, not excited by the idea of being paired with Santana.

Santana turned around and raised her eyebrows, so Quinn pressed on, not really ready to give in. "So, what's the assignment?"

Santana smiled, her grin distracting in a way that Quinn hated. "Hello to you too, Fab Gay."

"You know, after three years, you'd think you'd get a new insult."

Santana laughed, seemingly amused. "How does it work?"

"How does what work?" Quinn asked, unable to reel in her curiosity.

It probably seemed strange, Santana and Quinn talking to one another as if it happened regularly. The thing was, though, that they had both been forced to attend youth group since they were both in elementary school. They had seen each other once a week for _years_. However, that didn't mean that Santana treated Quinn any different. On the contrary, up until a few weeks ago Santana had barely even spoken three sentences to her. But then something changed. It was common knowledge that Santana's parents were loaded, and the rumor going around school was that her grades weren't up to par. Apparently her father had told her that if she wanted her car and leniencies back, she would have to put in an effort where he wanted her to.

It doesn't take a genius to conclude that Youth Group was one of those areas.

Santana rolled her shoulders, already annoyed, and Quinn couldn't help but wonder _why_. "Being _gay_ and a Christian, duh."

"You can be Christian and gay. My love for God doesn't change just because I love women instead of men." Quinn answered honestly, not in the mood to beat around the bush.

"Spoken like a true dyke." Santana spits out, her words just a repeat of the things she says in school.

Quinn narrowed her eyes. School was one thing, but this place was her safe zone. She didn't have to put up with Santana's crap if she didn't want to, and she didn't have to be nice just because Santana had decided to grace her presence with her words today instead of a slushy. "You know what, Santana? Fuck you. I don't need this. But you know who does? _You._" Quinn pretended not to be nervous as she pressed on, ignoring how Santana's face twitched in irritation. "I go to McKinley. My mother knows your dad. I know that you need the pastor to talk you up here so that you can get your curfew and car back. So how about we just move on with this and stop pretending like we actually want to make conversation."

Santana raised an eyebrow, her hands laying down on her obscenely short skirt. "You know, I still think you'd make one hell of a cheerio."

"I told you no then and the answer isn't any different now."

Santana rolled her eyes, something akin to respect shining in them. "I know, I know. You enjoy loserville far too much. All I'm saying is that you have potential." Santana reached for Quinn's glasses before she could protest. She pulled them off of Quinn's face and Quinn tried to protest, but Santana smacked her hands away. "Consider this repayment for your lovely words."

Quinn looked on, horrified, as Santana took Quinn's glasses and snapped them in two.

Santana handed Quinn her broken glasses. "You'll thank me later."

If Quinn wasn't in the house of the lord, she most certainly would have killed Santana Lopez.

* * *

So the following day, Quinn comes to school without her glasses on.

She curses the fact that she had to pick the hipster brand that was so flimsy because they broke so easily, and now she was stuck wearing her contacts even though they made her vision blurry. She cursed her decision to arrive late to Youth Group and she curses Santana freaking Lopez (just like she has been every day for the past four years).

Santana Lopez is the biggest bitch in all of McKinley and for some reason she had always had her sights set on Quinn. Her interest wasn't blatant or weird, because it usually was limited to insults and slushies. But lately, Santana had started to take a sudden interest in Quinn and Quinn couldn't understand _why_.

Their fates had been written the day Santana approached her with an offer to join the cheerios, the day Quinn was wearing her favorite batman shirt and blue jeans, the day that Quinn had said _no. _Ever since then their fates had been decided. Santana was intended to be the torturer and Quinn was meant to be one of her many victims. It didn't stop Santana from constantly singling Quinn out and it didn't stop Quinn from thinking Santana was pretty (if you ignored how absolutely vile she was).

What? Quinn had _eyes. _She could appreciate a pretty girl or two, and Santana was obviously a very, very, very pretty girl. You know, when she wasn't making kids life a living hell.

Anyway, when she strolls into school that morning, it's like something has just _switched_ with the student body because they're all staring at her. Quinn hurried through the hall, not really okay with the scrutiny and intense gaze she was getting from her peers.

It turns out that just like Katniss in The Hunger Games, the odds were very much _not_ in her favor these days.

Something in the student body had switched and Quinn was no longer invisible.

* * *

By lunchtime, the weekly McKinley High kissing list (a list that a kid somewhere in McKinley made where they ranked all of the females in numeral order, and ranked them based on how desirable they were to the student body) had started making it's rounds, and Quinn had ignored it. Just like she always did. She thought it was vain and pointless to constantly rate the girls at McKinley (on a list, nonetheless) and slightly degrading. It made Quinn feel uncomfortable that someone was constantly judging her. It made her feel worse when they constantly placed her at number sixty-nine. Literally, was there no better number?

Anyway, so color Quinn surprised when she passed by a flyer and spotted her name in the top ten. She pressed her finger to her nose from habit before remembering that her glasses were broken.

She shook her head, confused, and headed to the lunch room. She slid into her usual spot (the corner table in the back of the cafeteria, where all the 'losers' were located). She spots the flyer that Rachel has a death grip on and rolls her eyes, her hands digging into her side-bag to pull out her salad.

Rachel shows the flyer to the rest of the table and Quinn grimaces when they all start to react. Tina looks horrified, Mercedes is impressed, Kurt is curious, and Rachel...well, Rachel just looks incredibly jealous.

"I placed a hundred and thirty third, Quinn! How in the world did you place higher than me?" Rachel asks, her voice raising an octave.

Quinn rolled her eyes and straightened her bow tie. It had mustaches on it and it matched the suspenders she was wearing, as well as her t-shirt. Her mother had told her that her outfit made her look like a lesbian and Quinn had taken it as a compliment, since she was one.

She remembers a time when her mother was different, unsupportive, and Quinn believes that she's happier now. Who knows what type of girl she would have turned into if her mother hadn't of divorced her father when she was thirteen. It scares her, the idea that she could have been somebody completely different, and that her mother could have been somebody completely different, too.

She likes t-shirts and cardigans and _ladies_. She was a target if there ever was one, and Quinn doesn't think she would have made it this far (or been this happy) if parts of her life had turned out any different.

She licks her lips, her mind zoning back into the conversation. "I don't know. But it makes sense why everyone keeps staring at me."

"Actually, that has to do with the fact that you look less like a social pariah and more like a motherfucking super model." A voice behind her says, and Quinn watches as Rachel hunches in fear.

She doesn't have to turn around to deduce that it's a Cheerio, but she turns around anyway, and is met with the highest bitch of them all. She's flanked by her two minions (Sugar and Brittany) just like always, and there's this fucking smirk plastered on her face.

Quinn grimaced. She absolutely loathed Santana Lopez and not just because she broke Quinn's glasses. Santana was the epitome of every popular girl stereotype. She only cared about boys, popularity, and stepping on others to get where she wanted. She was vain, crass, and cruel. But the thing is that Quinn remembers Santana from when she was still fat and still Lucy, and Santana wasn't always this way. She was smart, devious, and bitchy-of course-but she was also kind where it mattered. She honestly had the power to do something good in her position and instead she fell into the same old song and dance that others always did.

Quinn narrowed her eyes, her will not as weak as everyone else at the table. Her mother had taught her years ago to be proud and be strong, and that's what she was going to do. "I don't think that anyone asked for your opinion."

Kurt gasps, Rachel hides underneath the table, Sugar frowns, and Santana-well, Santana just looks amused and it bugs Quinn even more. Santana licks her lips. "Look here, Q-"

"Don't call me that."

Santana laughed, ignoring Quinn's interruption. "I have some song ideas for our performance next week." She nodded to Sugar and Sugar pulled a card out of seemingly nowhere before handing it to Quinn. "Call me later and we'll discuss my ideas." Santana sent a glare Rachel's way before turning around with a swish of her hips, her body heading out of the cafeteria.

In takes less than a minute for Kurt to snatch the card out of Quinn's hand, his face in utter shock. "She gave you her number?"

Tina looked at Quinn, her eyes tiny. "Something weird is going on."

Quinn was inclined to agree. Something weird was going on, something weird indeed. She didn't understand the sudden interest that Santana had taken in her or why she had even dared approach the "loser" table at lunch. Something weird was definitely happening.

Rachel, always the go-get-em-and-notice-unimportant-facts-girl, looked at Quinn. Sheer confusion written all over her face. "Did Santana Lopez just compliment you? Did she just call you pretty?"


End file.
